


don't wanna cry (but i break that way)

by someassemblingrequired



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Club Starkiller, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Sort Of, dub con, sorry mom, where Rey is a semi unwilling sex worker and Hux owns a club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 19:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someassemblingrequired/pseuds/someassemblingrequired
Summary: There are rules at Club Starkiller, of course— no knives, no bruises above the neck, no broken bones, no beating the girls within an inch of their lives, for Maker’s sake!— but there are special rules for a few of the girls, girls who can take a bit more. But this particular patron went too far, and with the wrong girl, indeed.





	don't wanna cry (but i break that way)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SeptDeadDove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptDeadDove/gifts).



> tw: dub-con, emotional abuse (of a sort), violence again sex workers, sexual abuse, blood, beatings
> 
> This just sort of... happened. I 100% blame SeptDeadDove for this one, mostly because of our chats and the fact that this whole "Hux, who is normally an asshole, sheds his asshole skin and becomes one protective mofo when Rey is hurt" sort of vibe really appeals to me. 
> 
> The title comes from [Where's my love?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goWa6EzkCh4) by SYML, which is a beautiful song, but the video itself could be _very_ triggering so please watch with caution. 
> 
> Please mind the warnings, thank you!

One eye is swollen and her neck throbs, a string of vicious, swollen bite marks highlighted by the angry red handprints. Her breath comes in small gasps, lungs still trying to process the sudden allowance of air, and as her vision begins to right itself, she sees the client being dragged from the room. Her sight swims again and she hears a broken whimper from somewhere around her.

It doesn’t occur to her that the broken whimper is her own abused throats attempt at speaking. 

She sways despite her position, half propped up on the floor. Her abused body aches something fierce, worse than it ever has before, but perhaps that’s a good thing— he always seems to be proudest of her when she lets the others do as they please. But he’s usually here by now, and she longs for his touch, his aristocratic cadence as he tells her she’s “ _good, so good, such a good girl for me, Rey._ "

Another broken sound fills her ears as her arm gives out beneath her. The world still swims as her face throbs and the scent of blood fills her nostrils. The pounding in her head seems worse now, as she lays alone on the floor, no one there to fuck her or press kisses against her mouth or leave new raspberry bruises on her breasts. She doesn’t understand, she’s never left alone in this room for long. 

Her vision begins to darken, exhaustion creeping over her body, and in her last lucid seconds, she hears the door open and feels warmth draped over her naked flesh. A moment later, she is being lifted into the safe cocoon of someones arms, and she knows little else.

—

“Hush, pet.”

The whimpering must be her. Rey bites her lip, trying to stem it, but another sharp burst of pain knifes through her, and she lets out a sob. She can’t see, eyes swollen shut now, so she must’ve been asleep for a long time, and the loss of her most valuable sense terrifies her. Her hands shoot out, desperate for some sort of understanding of where she is, and a familiar hand catches hers.

_Hux_.

“Hush, little one. We need to set your ribs. I know it hurts.”

Something pricks her upper arm and she lets out a small, pathetic sob. 

“M’sorr…” Her lips feel funny and too heavy as she tries to speak. “M….m’sorry, Mr. Hux,” she gets out. “M’gon…gonna b-be… be buh-buh-better... ne-next time…” 

Her dizziness must be confusing her, because she swears she feels his hand on hers tighten, and a sharp intake of breath. She would swear on her life, swears it now, that his voice is tight and thick when he responds, “You _are_ good, Rey. Such a good girl. I’m… You are so good, pet. It’s alright. Rest now.”

She succumbs to the lethargy in her veins moments later.

—

His fists are caked with blood and his knuckles are raw when he leaves the cells beneath the club. Ren will deal with the remainder of the overly-forward customer, and an example will be made. There are rules at Club Starkiller, of course— no knives, no bruises above the neck, no broken bones, no beating the girls within an inch of their lives, for Maker’s sake!— but there are special rules for a few of the girls, girls who can take a bit more.

But this particular patron went too far, and with the wrong girl, indeed. Hux feels a fresh wave of rage crash through his veins, and it is only Mitaka’s reminder that, “Sir, she’s awake, she’s terrified,” that keeps him from turning around to deliver another bout of punishment to the pathetic man in the cell. 

Her screams had been loud enough that they had echoed through the halls, somehow breaking through the soundproofing in the play rooms. Loud enough that he had heard her in his office, more than two hundred feet down the hall. He had been up in a moment— he knew those screams intimately, but they had never sounded like _that_. 

Now, as he walked towards his own rooms, he knew why. He was surprised, truly, that she had had it in her to scream at all. She was so set on being good for him now, she took anything given to her if only to have him reward her afterwards. But the hysterics in her voice before she had collapsed, the state of her face, her body… 

His forefinger and thumb rubbed a blood crusted hoop in his pocket, a slight shiver running up his spine as he considered how much pain it must have caused her to have this particular ring ripped forcibly from her breast. It was, after all, a gift from him, and he knew she treasured it. 

“Run a bath for her, Mitaka. In my bathroom. Have some food sent from the kitchen, and then ensure that Mr. Ren has taken care of Senator Tarkin. Perhaps suggest that sending some fingers to the Hutt family and the Fetts would be appropriate in this instance… And then, you have the run of the club this evening.”

His assistant blinked at him, eyes wide and surprised, but within moments, the young man was on his way to carry out Hux’s whims. There was, after all, a reason he had survived longer than any other assistant. 

The door in front of him opened seemingly of its own accord and he walked into the space he occupied when club work kept him away from the penthouse across town. Brittle breathing echoed from the bedroom, and so he made his way there, feet barely making a sound as he entered the familiar, dark room.

She looked so broken on his bed, and he frowned, fighting down the urge to immediately draw her into his arms. He knew, _knew_ , he was getting too attached but Rey… Rey was his.

“Oh, pet…”

Her face was a mess, eyes less swollen now, but cheeks a mess of black, and blue, and purple. The worst of her cuts had been dressed and cleaned, but her hair was matted with lube and blood and cum. She was wrapped in his coat, had apparently refused to let it go after he had draped it over her in the play room. He couldn’t help himself— his feet took him to her, and he climbed into the bed beside her, gently pulling her into his lap.

She let out a mournful whimper, immediately nuzzling into his neck as she knew she was supposed to when he did this, but he hushed her, pulling her back slightly.

“You’ll hurt yourself, pet, hush. I’ve got you.”

His hand stroked along her back, changing direction each time she hissed and whined. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, and his hand froze. “I did what… I did what he said, Mr. Hux, I swear. I… Armie, I swear I was good…” Her voice hitched, unable to stop herself from appealing to him. “I swear… please…”

“Oh, precious girl…” Hux brushed a kiss over her temple and he felt her freeze. She had become so dependent on his affirmation, and he almost regretted it now. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Rey, hush now. It’s been taken care of.”

She felt tiny in his arms, despite her height, and as she shook, he cradled her more closely against his chest. “P-please… Please don’t send me back to him, Armie,” she whimpered, tears burning her healing eyes. “I… Please, Armie. Anyone else, but… not… not him, please.” 

Hux stiffened beneath her, and from the frightened hitch in her breathing, he knew she thought he was angry. She felt her begin to curl in on herself, preparing herself for a beating he would never mete out against her— the instinct of too many years in the care of much lesser men. “You won’t be going back to any of them, pet.”

And where had that come from? His mouth moved without consulting his brain. “I won’t have it. You are mine, little one. I won’t have anyone treating you this way. You belong to me.” His voice was petulant, a child who had nearly had his favorite toy taken away forever. She softened in his arms, aching limbs relaxing as she realized no fists would rain down upon her.

“… Any of them?”

“None but me will touch you from now on, Rey. Clearly I cannot trust anyone else to take appropriate care of you.”

Her fingers brushed across his cheek and tears rolled down her face, stinging the open cuts. She ignored it, hiccuping slightly as she dared to lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. They both ignored the warm smile that grew on his lips. “I… I thought you had… he said you had given him permission to… to…” Her voice hitched again, memories of the man kicking out at her face swimming to the forefront of her memory. “To k-kill me… that I was… too much t-trouble.” Emotion swam through her words, tears running faster down her bloody cheeks.

Hux hissed angrily, and shifted. Rey yelped as he lifted them both off of the bed in a move that seemed almost superhuman. His anger was thick in the air around them, but as moved them swiftly towards the bathroom, it became evident that it was not directed towards her. She knew his anger, his moods, and never had he been so silent around her. When she displeased him, he spelled it out for her. 

Now, he was silent, like an oncoming storm. His fingers tightened as he backed into the bathroom door, left ajar by an astute Mitaka, to open it. Roses and epsom filled the air, tendrils of steam carrying them through the bathroom from the overly-large tub. Hux settled Rey on the ottoman, setting himself to work delicately pulling her hair into a loose bun atop her head, removing the jacket she clung too so tightly. “Rey,” he held out a hand to her before lifting her again, noting the way her legs shook.

As he set her into the hot water, she whimpered, staring at him with tear stained cheeks. “Hush, pet. I’m going to get you clean, then we can talk, alright?” 

A nod punctuated her sniffles, wide eyes still fixed on him. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and pressed another kiss to her forehead before soaking a small face towel in the hot bath water. “This will sting, but I know you can be good for me, precious girl.” His voice lacked its usual strength, the usual power, and he knew he sounded a step away from broken, but he saw as she let the phrase take hold on her. 

He had trained her well.

She kept mostly silent as he gently wiped away the crusted blood from her forehead, her bruised cheeks, and her nose. When he tended to her torn nipple and abused breasts, she sobbed quietly, but didn’t move, allowing him to rub away the cum that had mixed into the wounds. He was delicate with her throat and shoulders, though every bite made him furious. No, no one else would ever touch his girl again. 

“Can you stand for me, precious girl? I need to clean your legs.”

It took time, and ultimately Hux retrieved a chair from his office, placing it in the tub so that she could more easily sit and prop her feet on the edge of the bath, allowing him access to her. She hissed and shut her eyes as he ran the cloth across the welts and bruises that the hot water brought out, though her surprise as he kissed each one was acknowledged by her little disbelieving whimpers and breathy sighs. He had been gentle with her before, but never like _this_.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Rey. I swear it.”

He kissed the bruises, the cuts, the lashes, up to the apex of her thighs. Her eyes filled with mournful anticipation, and she shuffled to allow him unimpeded access to her cunt. He didn’t let her see his frown, instead cleaning the cloth and soaking it again in the rose and epsom water. Of course she believed he would take her now— when had he ever given her reason to believe he wanted more from her than just her holes? He had told her that was all she was worth many a time. 

“No, pet. Not tonight. Let me take care of you.” 

He ran the cloth across her thighs, cleaning up the remnants of sticky blood and cum and lube, frowning as fresh blood seemed to bloom on the seat beneath her each time she shifted. “Did he fuck you dry, Rey? Tell me, now.”

She nodded, a small sob breaking from her chest. 

“He… he said that… that no one cared about whore blood anyway… and it felt… felt… felt better than… lube.” 

Her voice cracked as Hux ran the cloth between her cheeks, pausing to examine the damage. It was mostly superficial, and he thanked the Maker he had been doing daily training with her, and that Senator Tarkin was… smaller than one would expect. The damage, he knew, could have been significantly worse. Worse still, though, that he knew she had let it happen in the hopes of his praise later on. 

“You’re doing so well for me, pet. So well. Such a good girl. This will never happen again, I promise, sweet girl.”

With his permission, she slipped back into the still-warm water, allowed him to tilt her head back and rub shampoo and then conditioner into her matted locks. A moan echoed in her chest as hot water rinsed her scalp and his fingers rubbed across her scalp, ensuring he had caught all the traces of blood and conditioner.

“Come then, pet. Up you get.” He stood and opened a towel, watching her like a hawk as she stepped from the tub on shaky legs. As soon as she had herself wrapped in the fluffy warmth of the towel, he scooped her up into his arms again, ignoring the way her hair dripped onto his shirt. 

The woman in his arms didn’t protest, too sleepy, too in pain, too overwhelmed, too well trained, to do so. Instead, she nestled closer into his chest, breathing in his scent. “Would…”

Hux shook his head. “I would never have given Senator Tarkin permission to hurt you like this, pet, you know that. I know you know that. What he has done to you… oh, my precious girl.” His voice cracked and he sat down on the bed, holding her tightly to his chest as tears began to form in his eyes. They dripped from his nose onto her pink-tinged skin. “My precious girl, I’m so sorry.” 

They sat like that for a long time, Hux crying gently into her hair as he rocked her back and forth, murmuring apologies into her scalp. 

“You’ll be alright, pet. I’ll take care of you.”

He dried her hair, rubbed antiseptic into her wounds, bandaged up her breast and hip and legs. Every touch was tender, gentle, and Rey herself felt tears slipping down her cheeks as she realized she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken such care with her. 

“Sleep now, precious girl. You need your rest. I’ll keep you safe.”

Sleep came to her as he stroked her hair, nestled against his chest, feeling safer than she had for many, many years.


End file.
